


When Kaylie Met Cassandra

by aunt_zelda



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Crying, F/F, Femslash February, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: “May I kiss you, mysterious lady?” she asks, leaning forward so they’re almost nose-to-nose.“Please do,” the girl smiles. “If you’re brave enough.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wynterwillow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynterwillow/gifts).



> I can't stop shipping these two.

Kaylie notices the girl after a few performances. Whitestone is a new town, so every face is unfamiliar, but she starts to notice regulars. The girl dresses nice, too nice for a tavern really, but nobody seems to pay her any mind. She’s often cloaked, though the tavern can get warm in the evenings with lots of bodies moving around a roaring fire. Though her hood is usually up, Kaylie gets a glance at her face a few times. She’s pretty, in that shiny sort of way that nobles get – scrubbed clean and kept pale from lack of sun. 

One evening Kaylie buys her a drink, gets a closer look. The girl seems baffled by the move, but drinks with Kaylie just the same, spluttering the ale like it’s her first time. Hood down, Kaylie can see they’re probably of an age, though the girl has lines on her face that suggest time hasn’t been kind to her. 

“Is that a fashion thing?” Kaylie asks, when they’ve drunk several tankards. “Do you dye it?”

The girl touches her hair and frowns. “No. It’s … I had a fright.”

“Now that sounds like a story,” Kaylie knocks back her tankard. When she sets it down, the mirth is gone from the girl’s face. “You don’t have to talk about it, just making conversation,” Kaylie says, softening her tone. “So … what do young people do for fun around here?”

The girl blinks. “I’m … sorry?”

“Every town’s got a place, right? In Westruun it was the cornfields, in Kymal it’s the lakeside, in Emon it’s … well, it _was_ the promenade.” Kaylie grins and winks. “You know, somewhere not so brightly lit, where hands and mouths can … wander.”

The girl blushes, color finally coming to that pale face like wine stains on a cloth. “Oh! Well, I suppose … the center of town is quiet at night?”

“Perfect!” Kaylie slaps down a tip on the table and hops out of her chair. “Shall we, mysterious lady?” she offers her arm like a gallant. 

The girl giggles and takes it, though their difference in height means she has to walk slightly hunched over to even lean against Kaylie properly.

On their stumbling walk through the city streets, eventually the girl straightens up, twining her fingers with Kaylie’s. There’s rings on her fingers, expensive ones from the look and feel, but Kaylie isn’t thinking of thieving now. 

The center of Whitestone is quiet, the buildings around the center square dark, many are empty or partially torn down. The Sun Tree sprouts in the middle, big branches looming, bark shining in the moonlight. There are lanterns lit at intervals, giving the place a bit of an eerie feel for Kaylie’s tastes.

“Some of the worst days of my life happened here,” the girl says. 

“Why’s that?” Kaylie asks, wondering what on earth could have happened to a noble girl, who looks like she eats well, to make her so sad. 

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” the girl asks suddenly, stopping to stare at the Sun Tree. She lets go of Kaylie’s hand.

“Should I?” Kaylie hops up onto a nearby bench that looks new. She sits on the back, to be of a height with the girl. “I’ve only just arrived, not really up on local high society.”

The girl laughs, but it’s not the happy sort of laugh. “I think you’re the first person in … my entire life? Who doesn’t know who I am?” she sits down on the bench seat, now shorter than Kaylie. “I want to keep it that way, please? For just a little while longer.”

Kaylie shrugs. Nobles are weird, rich enough to be called “eccentric” for things like this. There’s all sorts of tales of kings who dressed as commoners to have a bit of fun, maybe this is something like that. “You don’t have some husband who’s going to come charging in here and run me through with a rapier, do you?”

The girl laughs, and this time it’s the happy sort of laugh. “No! No husband!” she inches closer to Kaylie. “I believe you said something about hands and mouths … wandering?” she looks up at Kaylie with shining eyes. 

Kaylie feels much older than she has in her entire life. She’d been hoping for a roll in a barn, or a back room, or an alley if they got really desperate, but this girl doesn’t seem all that experienced. Far be it from her to take after her father’s worse qualities. 

“May I kiss you, mysterious lady?” she asks, leaning forward so they’re almost nose-to-nose. 

“Please do,” the girl smiles. “If you’re brave enough.”

Kaylie has never backed down from a challenge, not even when she probably should have. She slides off the back of the bench to stand on the seat, at a perfect level to kiss the girl’s hopeful lips. 

There isn’t much makeup, not that Kaylie can sense. The girl reeks of the cheap ale and smells faintly of perfume. Her hair is soft, the kind of softness that comes of regular bathing, and Kaylie cards it between her fingers as she grips the girl’s head for a proper handhold. 

The girl gasps, and Kaylie takes the chance to wriggle her tongue into the girl’s mouth for a bit of an exploration. Not everyone likes that, but Kaylie enjoys doing it all the time, just to shock people who’ve never tried it. To her delight, the girl yelps and squirms a bit in surprise. 

Eventually though, all good things must come to an end. Kaylie breaks the kiss and leans against the back of the bench, looking at the results of her work. 

The girl’s lips are red and a little puffy, her eyes are shining, her hair is mussed, and her chest is heaving. Kaylie wants to do a bit more exploring, especially under that fancy dress, but experience cautions her and she decides to humor that for once. 

“Something you want to tell me, before we go any further?” Kaylie asks. She doesn’t want to end up in bed with a married woman whose husband doesn’t know about her proclivities, or some kind of holy woman who’s forbidden the more carnal pursuits. Whitestone seems a profitable town and she’d rather stay here for a while. 

The girl sighs heavily and sets to fixing her hair. She looks much older now, older than Kaylie has ever seen a woman.

“When I was thirteen … my family was killed. Slaughtered. Like … like animals. They kept me alive because … I don’t know, really, I think they wanted a child of their own and I was the youngest.” She stares at the Sun Tree. “The villagers wouldn’t believe it, so … the murderers put their bodies on the Sun Tree. Displayed them, so everyone could see what had been done.” She wraps her cloak around herself. “I’ve lived here all my life, and it wasn’t until just before Winter’s Crest that the murderers were killed and I was … freed.”

Kaylie does some quick math in her mind. A few months, since this girl’s torment ceased. 

“I did terrible things, to survive. Most people don’t know about that. Some do, though. And more suspect. So you see,” she turns to face Kaylie. “The fact that you don’t know who I am, what I’ve done, have no rumors or falsehoods in your mind when you look at me … that is a rare quality indeed, in Whitestone.”

Kaylie makes an educated guess. “Lady Cassandra de Rolo?” 

Cassandra winces. “That is my name, yes. I used to hate it. I thought I could change it, scratch it away.” Her fingers twitch. 

“I know something of that,” Kaylie offers. “When you’re born a bastard, nobody in the village lets you forget it. The way they say your name starts to hurt. It’s not your name any more, it’s a … a curse. Something people yell or spit, but never just say.”

Cassandra nods. “People only speak to me when they need something, want something. I give and give and they take and take … haven’t I given enough?” her voice cracks and her face crumples. “Haven’t I … I’ve tried … over and over …” she buries her face in her hands. 

Kaylie reaches out to touch Cassandra’s shoulder, patting it in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. 

“I never wanted this!” Cassandra sobs, still hiding her face. “I never asked for it. I never asked them to … to keep me like … like a doll they played with when they were bored …” her words become incoherent, babbling and weeping. 

Kaylie waits until Cassandra has wrung herself out. Cassandra wipes at her face with a cloth, heaves a deep breath, and steadies herself. Save for a bit of redness around her eyes, she looks decently presentable. 

“So, that’s who I am.” Cassandra’s voice is brittle. 

Kaylie slumps on the bench. “Well, fuck me,” she gasped out, for lack of anything better to say. 

Cassandra smiles faintly. “That was rather the idea, before you decided to be the sensible one.”

Kaylie slaps herself on the forehead. “There I go, ruining my chances with a pretty girl, again!” she shakes her head. “I ought to have tumbled you right there in the tavern. No risk of getting in my own way then.”

Cassandra’s cheeks darken in the lamplight. “That would have been rather public.”

“I can be discrete, when occasion demands.” Kaylie waggles her eyebrows. “The question is, can you, my lady?”

“I believe so.” Cassandra’s hand drifts towards Kaylie’s, not touching her. 

“Then I hope to see you tomorrow evening, in the tavern.” Kaylie takes Cassandra’s hand and kisses it. “Should I walk you to the castle?”

“Thank you, but I’m quite capable of finding my way on my own,” Cassandra stands, smoothing down her skirts. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Kaylie stands on the bench and bows with a flourish. 

Cassandra smiles, and leaves the town square, walking in nearly a straight line. 

Kaylie sighs and slumps on the bench. She’ll go back to the tavern eventually, but for now, she’ll stare up at the stars for a while and think of ways to seduce a proper lady.


End file.
